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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22489435">Finding the Way</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodwin/pseuds/Goodwin'>Goodwin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Father Plans, For the love of his child, Gen, ManDadlorian, Sorgan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:08:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>817</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22489435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodwin/pseuds/Goodwin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Child needs a family, one that will be around longer than the Mandalorian with his puny 80-90 year life span.  The Mandalorian gives it some consideration.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Baby Yoda &amp; The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) &amp; Omera (Star Wars)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Finding the Way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“He is so tiny,” Omera said, as she smiled and let the curtain fall back to the window.  The Mandalorian suppressed an urge to check on him again.  She was right when she said he’d be fine with the other children.  Still, they would need to go soon.  Even this brief visit to the village on Sorgan was taking a risk, but he needed a chance to speak with her.  Or he wanted to.  </p><p>“Do you know how old he is?” he asked.  She shook her head, her hair shining in the late afternoon light.  He brought his attention back as she spoke.  “No; in the age of our children, he would be an infant, or in the early stages of a toddler.  But for his people . . .  I don’t know.”</p><p>“I was hoping you might have knowledge of them.”</p><p>She moved to a chair, and he sat opposite her, accepting her offer of tea.  “No, I’m sorry.  Are you concerned about proper food, or enrichment for him while you travel?”  Mando suppressed another grimace beneath his helmet, though she couldn’t see it.  He had been providing what would be considered standard rations for most carbon-based beings, but what if it wasn’t sufficient?  And enrichment?</p><p>“Don’t worry,” she leaned forward and laid a comforting hand on his arm, drawing him out of his thoughts.  “He seems to be thriving in your care.”  </p><p>“Thank you.”  They sat quietly for a moment, and he enjoyed the warmth of the tea through his gloves.  “I have come for advice, if you have any to give.”  </p><p>“For him?” she said.  “Yes.”  </p><p>“There is a problem,” he continued.  “Or not so much of a problem, as a situation to consider.”  Mando glanced back to the window.  “I was told that the child is 50 years old.”  Omera’s eyes widened slightly as she turned to him.  “50?”  </p><p>“50”, she repeated to herself.  “His people must be very long lived.”  Mando felt free enough to make an awkward gesture that implied agreement.  It spoke to his compatibility with this woman that she understood it past the armor.</p><p>Omera sat back in her chair.  “Where did he come from?  Someone must surely be looking for him - other than the bounty hunter we saw earlier.”  </p><p>Mando’s gaze whipped back to her.  “He is my son - we are family now - I can’t-“   The arm of the chair creaked in his grasp, and Omera’s expression softened at his sudden defense. </p><p> “I’m not saying you should give him back; he is clearly safer with you than anywhere else.  And even here we know of the Mandalorian tradition of taking in foundlings.  But I think I understand your concern now.  He is 50, and a babe.  Your lifespan will be … 80 to 90 years?” she said, softly.   He nodded, silently.  “You worry who will care for him after you pass.”  He took a deep breath.  “Yes.”</p><p>They talked long into the night, past the children’s meal, and eventually, as he gathered the sleepy child into his arms and boarded the Razor Crest, he felt he had the beginnings of a path forward.</p><p> </p><p>===</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It had been a relief to open up to Omera about his worry; <em>a burden shared is a burden halved</em>, he mused.  He glanced at the child, dozing in the dimmed interior light of the Razor Crest’s helm.</p><p>“<em>You’ll want to set something up in advance; be prepared in case you need it earlier than planned</em>,” she’d said.   “<em>Don’t Mandalorians usually depend on the group to care for their own, though</em>?”</p><p>It was true; the tribe was trusted.  The planet grew smaller in the viewport as his thoughts drifted back to their conversation.  </p><p>That was the whole point, really.  It was the Way.  Still, this was… different.  “<em>It’s all right, you don’t have to explain to me</em>,” she had said.  And it was a good thing; he’d have been hard pressed.  He only knew he’d have to look farther afield to find safety for the child.  The Mando’ade would provide strength and protection, but they would also make it more necessary; by their very nature, they drew violence.  </p><p>He was vaguely surprised to recognize that he wanted more for the child than he had wanted for himself; stability, a peaceful existence.  Would he be able to fit into such a world?  </p><p>He would find a way, he determined.  After all, he had a family depending on him.  </p><p>
  <em>“So you will look for a place that will be safe, to raise him to adulthood, and others to step forward when you are no longer; where would such a place be?  How long would it take to find?”</em>
</p><p>He could give no answer, merely raising his eyes to meet hers behind the shield of his helm.  </p><p>
  <em>“It could be the work of a full lifetime.”</em>
</p><p>To himself, he smiled and repeated the soft reply he had given:  “<em>It is the Way</em>.”  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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